


Pyro

by jaygirl987



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fever Dreams, I apologize in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 23:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12468784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaygirl987/pseuds/jaygirl987
Summary: Fevers can wreck havoc on the mind.





	Pyro

  The medicine is bitter as it goes down, but she swallows every last drop under watchful eyes.

  She coughs and sputters, clenches her eyes shut and fights the tremors of heavy revulsion rippling in her stomach, waving away concerned calls of her name as Yoon nods his head in stern approval. “There,” he says once she is settled in bed once more, kneeling in the opening of their tent as he presses his hand to her clammy skin. “That’ll help with the fever and let you get some rest,” he turns and stands, one hand grasping the empty cup while the other brushes off his pant leg. He glares at the small half-circle of warriors who are all gazing at her with worry and hisses, “Shoo! Shoo! She needs to rest- back up!”

  He informs her that he’ll check in on her in a bit, lowering the tent flap to block out the sunlight as her eyes grow heavy. Minutes tick by but they feel like hours as the medicine begins to spread throughout her body. She feels sluggish and incompetent. She tries to fight it as best as she can, but it’s an uphill battle that she cannot gain any ground in. She feels guilty for having put a halt in their travels for something so trivial as a fever, but it cannot be helped.

  She faintly hears echoes of her friends conversing over what supplies need gathered while they’re stopped, Yoon listing off the herbs that he needs restocked as Hak asks Zeno to accompany him to the stream in search of suitable stones to fashion into arrowheads.

  Their familiar and comforting voices soothe her into a deep sleep.

 

 

 

  She’s not sure what has awakened her, but something is not quite... _right_. Time feels distorted, like some foreign concept that she cannot grasp or comprehend, her mind flailing and unable to hold onto one thought for too long. She has no worries or concerns, no pressing matters to attend to as she floats in the smoky haze of her subconscious, somewhere between asleep and aware. Down is up and nothing makes sense as she opens her eyes slowly to a muted atmosphere of somewhere and nowhere all at once, her body weighted and useless as she tries to call out for someone, _anyone_. Shouldn’t someone be here with her? Isn’t there something missing?

  “Princess?”

  Who- her? She places the sound and title wrapped up in a familiar cadence at last, her mind sighing with relief as recognition worms its way into her focus.

  _Kija_.

  She knows and recognizes him, brief flashes of diluted memories sifting through the muck and mire as he leans forward. He is kneeling at her feet, his white clothing a stark contrast against the hazy and unfocused background surrounding them. He’s a beacon in this fog, his presence a soothing lull as he approaches her on hands and knees. He hovers above her, one of her legs nestled in between his parted knees as her eyes lock with his soft gaze. She wants to be confused, her logic stating that something should be amiss, here. What is going on? There should be other people here, right? Shadows hover on the edge of her thoughts but she cannot focus upon them. She feels that there are other pieces missing to this puzzle but does not even know where to begin to look.

  She opens her mouth to ask him something (she forgets already what she wants to know), but he shushes her gently, his dragon’s claw so very tender as he brushes her crimson strands away from her face and urges her not to strain herself, the scales grazing along her skin so very soft and warm. There is strength coiling beneath the surface but somehow she knows that he will not harm her. She sighs and feels her eyelashes flutter as he lowers himself to her, the weight of his body against hers slight but comforting, his nose nuzzling into her temple as his thumb brushes along her jawline with reverence.

  His fingertips press under her chin, urging her to tilt her lips up to his, his voice a mere ghost of a whisper as he breathes out her title, calls her his master, his mouth pressing to hers with the barest hint of pressure. She closes her eyes and feels a dizzying sensation pulling at her, beckoning her to fall into the black hole that threatens to swallow her up. She thinks that if she would be permitted to always feel this way, then she would surrender and submit wholeheartedly without resistance anytime.

  Kija whispers promises to always be by her side as he trails his mouth to the shell of her ear, his breath warm as his voice declares his undying devotion to her, his hand trailing down her arm, his touch branding her through her robe and breeding shivers in its wake. “I am yours,” he murmurs before kissing her once more, his fingers entwining with hers as he pulls back just enough in order to rest his forehead against hers. “I belong to you.”

  His words echo in the space and hang in the air, reverberating in time with the beating of her heart. She opens her eyes lazily as he sits up to put space between them, but it is no longer the fair skinned warrior above her, an otherworldly beauty staring back at her instead. Shin-ah’s exotic eyes hold her captive with ease, his mask nowhere to be found as he lifts their clasped hands up to his mouth. He presses a lingering kiss to her knuckles and murmurs her name before closing his eyes. She feels a small tremor pass through her as he rubs his cheek against the back of her hand affectionately, his eyelashes damp as they brush against her skin.

  Her breath catches as he opens his eyes, his ethereal gaze lifting slowly to lock with hers, the warmth reflecting back at her conjuring up images of floating fireflies and dew-kissed meadows in the moonlight. It is as if the stars are above them as his other hand reaches down to cup her face, leaning forward in order to press his lips to hers in a silent oath.

  She cannot breath. Shin-ah has stolen the very air from her lungs as he dips his head to pay his regards to the sensitive skin of her neck, pressing loving kisses to the column of her throat as she tilts her head back and stares into nothingness. Thoughts are fleeting, wrapped up in sensations and heavy with nothing but texture and feel. Little dings and dents at her clarity continue to ricochet off into the void, her mind incapable of focusing on anything but what is happening to her body. It seems so very real.

  His voice, such a rare thing to grace her ears, speaks her name, his head pressing against her sternum as his arms wrap around her to hold her close. She feels his silent plea to touch him, her numb hands lifting to her strong desires and will at last, fingers burying themselves in his short strands as his lips meet her bare skin.

  She shivers and shakes, her robe open beneath him in the space of a heartbeat as his still clothed form slides against her sensitive skin. She feels a broken sob escape her lips as he kisses the valley between her breasts, says her name once more as he presses his lips to where her heart resides in her chest, pounding against her ribs as his hands trace down the contours of her naked sides. She feels so very small and frail beneath his large frame but so very safe as well, her gentle dragon descending her body slowly, her fingers tightening around his blue strands as his heated breath spreads along the skin of her lower abdomen with curling want.

  She can do nothing but hold on tightly as strong fingers touch her delicately where she’s never been touched before, her eyes slamming shut and hips rising as she whimpers, the nearly unbearable hollow ache she feels overtaking all other thoughts. She’s so strangely empty, liquid heat spreading between her thighs as she gasps. Fingertips slide through her wetness, parting her lips and pulling sensation after sensation from within her as her hips writhe against her will. She wants. She _wants_. She’s never wanted something that she does not understand so fiercely before, just knows that if she does not obtain it she will go up in flame.

  Two hands appear at her waist to steady her and she nearly screams in desperation at the loss of friction, her nails scratching along the scalp beneath her palms. She is fracturing, the breaks along her sanity cracking and splintering a mere second before something hot and wet replaces the vacancy between her thighs, her back arching and voice escaping her as lips wrap around her and begin to suckle. She cannot take this, her body trembling and out of her control as her head thrashes against the bedding, the grip at her waist pulling her down with a tad more force into the tongue that laps at her greedily. She bites her lip, panting as the limber little muscle slides and coils, presses against her and rolls, her grip upon the head nestled between her legs increasing as sharp teeth graze against her thigh.

  She shatters and breaks, heat unfurling and spreading along her limbs as she moans, a tingling pulse giving way to a more insistent throbbing that leaves her shaking. She feels it still reverberating in her body, yet she is still so incomplete. It’s good, but it’s just not enough to satiate, offering her a mere taste as her body hungers. It is as if she has climbed the mountain, only to see that she has yet to reach the summit. She wants more. She craves it with an urgency that she does not understand.

  Jae Ha sits up, allowing her legs to melt away from his shoulders, pulling his open overcoat along with them in their descent. His thumb brushes her wetness away from his swollen bottom lip slowly as glazed indigo eyes dripping with lust travel the length of her flushed and naked body. His earrings glint in the light as he regards her with nothing short of a ravenous hunger. She’s exposed yet she feels no shame. Green strands are tousled as he peers at her through his bangs, his voice low and sultry as he crawls up her body. Lean muscles support his weight as he plants his hands on either side of her head and bends down to brush his lips against hers. “My dear,” he all but purrs, her hips rising to meet him and greeting nothing in return. “You’re the most addicting drug I’ve ever tasted.”

  She whines, wants to beg him to help alleviate this horrid ache, knows that he is more than capable of helping her, but allows him instead to kiss her, his tongue sinking into her mouth as his fingers twine themselves into the sweat soaked strands at the base of her neck. She’s shivering and panting at the same time, cold from the absence of warmth while her skin sizzles. She feels him beginning to depart from her and her hands wrap around his wrists to keep him close.

  Her eyelids are heavy as her bound wrists are placed above her head, Hak’s icy blue eyes positively molten as his hand presses against her wrists to keep her pinned down, his hair falling into his line of vision. He’d once stated that he wanted nothing more than to tie her down so that he could keep her out of harm, and it looks as if he’s finally getting what he wants. He ducks his head down to take the peak of her breast into his mouth, his tongue tasting her skin as she gasps, flames licking away at her body as he presses himself against the juncture of her thighs and _grinds_.

  It is she who moans his name now, so low and breathless as her fingers tangle themselves together above her head, one of the straps that normally bind his sleeve to his arm keeping her restrained as his robes part to reveal his bare chest to her. The diagonal scar that marks his skin is a testament to his devotion, his body her tool to be used at her disposal, no matter how she protests and insists that he means so much more to her than that. The stone that she'd gifted to him hangs around the corded muscle of his neck. He cherishes it just as he promised he would. Hak is everything to her, his presence in her life something that she cannot go on without. 

  “Use me,” he husks as he sinks into her slowly, her back bowing off of the bed as his hard thighs slide beneath hers, lifting her up and angling her to allow him to penetrate her more deeply, his hands holding her hips steady as she sobs. His lips part as he watches her with utter devotion, her body smoldering to ashes as the throbbing pulse within her begins to become more persistent. She does not know when this inferno will cool, just knows that she may not survive the blinding heat as Hak continues to move within her, pulling back only to return to her again and again, filling her as he leans down and growls into her neck. “Use me,” he insists once more, her hips grinding up and against him as the blaze reaches a crescendo. “I’m yours, Yona.”

  Her name on his lips is the ignition. The pulsing inside of her sends sparks along every nerve ending, the blood in her veins catching and sweeping away all other thoughts. It shoots through her body and leaves her weary as it ebbs at long last, the breath that leaves her parted lips so very hot and humid as she opens her eyes to see nothing. She is alone in this space, left with a residual tingling in her fingers and toes as she huffs and fights to regain her breath.

  Her muscles ache and she stiffens as she tries to move her limbs. A cool hand presses against her forehead and her head lolls to the side, exhausted gaze barely able to take in the gemstone colored eyes regarding her such with tender care. Zeno’s forehead crinkles slightly and it is the most concerned that she has seen him in some time.

  “Little Miss,” he murmurs softly, his palm pressing into her cheek as she continues to pant, struggling for breath, her chest constricting with an invisible added weight as sweat continues to bead at her brow. “You’re burning up.”

  Her head retreats involuntarily from his icy touch, the temperature pulling forth even more tremors from her as she groans. “Hak,” she croaks, wondering how he could leave her all alone in this state. “Please...”

 

 

    
  Yoon frowns as he wrings the excess water out of the rag. “Yona,” he calls to her, his worry nearly palpable when she fails to open her eyes. “Can you hear me? Yona?”

  Zeno piles another blanket on top of the princess’s quaking frame, her moans low and soft as she shivers and mumbles nonsensical things, the flush on her cheeks darkening with every passing moment. He tucks the edges beneath her slight frame and sits back on his heels.

  “Princess!” Calls out Kija, leaning forward as she whimpers and pants heavily. He shoots his gaze to Yoon, panic written all over his face. His tone is accusatory as he practically roars, “I thought you said the medicine would _help_ her!”

  Yoon applies another compress. “It _will_ ,” he insists. “Her fever's just at its pinnacle. Once it breaks, she’ll be on the mend. We just have to help get her there.”

  Kija lurches forward again for another round of questioning, but is suddenly pulled back, the grip on his shoulder steady as he opens his mouth to argue and protest, meeting the Ryokuryuu’s intense eyes over his shoulder and deciding to remain silent instead.

  Jae-Ha’s tone is falsely calm as he speaks with a small smile. ”We’ll do whatever we can,” he says to Yoon, who merely nods at him before returning to stroking the young girl’s fevered brow. 

  Her voice is a tired croak as it reaches their ears, her brow slightly furrowed as she murmurs Hak’s name on a broken sob, five sets of eyes glancing between one another in a silent dilemma.

  Shin-ah stands swiftly and exits the tent, Yoon calling out to him questioningly, only to realize that the Seiryuu is searching the surrounding forest for the thunder beast, trying to pinpoint his exact distance to see if he is anywhere close to returning from his trip into the neighboring town.

  “What’s wrong?” Comes a voice from behind, startling the blue dragon as he quickly pulls his mask down to cover his gaze. He watches Hak’s expression darken as he realizes that everyone is suspiciously absent, a low moan of his name coming from within the tent causing his eyes to widen.

  "Yona,” Shin-ah murmurs as the thunder beast brushes past him, dropping his pack along the way.

 

 

 

  She does not know how much time has passed since she’d first closed her eyes, but it feels as if she’s been sleeping in broken cycles for over one hundred years. What in the world was in that medicine? Her throat is dry and crackles when she tries to clear it, her head hazy and arms weak as she tries to lift her head. She attempts to peel open her eyelids, but the strain for even something as minor as that feels monumental. 

  “Take it easy,” murmurs a familiar voice, gentle hands burrowing beneath her shoulders in order to support her fully as she’s lifted upright. A strong arm wraps around her, a familiar scent reaching her nose as she turns her head into clothing that smells of nostalgia and the forest outside.

  She opens her eyes slowly, her vision swimming into focus at long last as Hak's large palm presses to her forehead, gauging her temperature. The fog slowly lifts from her mind as his low voice rumbles, “Do you want me to get Yoon?”

  Does she...want...? She blinks rather stupidly at him as her sluggish brain fights to piece together the words to comprehend the meaning behind them, but she’s too tired to translate, so she slowly shakes her head ‘no’ instead.

  Hak presses a cup of water up to her lips, instructing her to drink slowly as she takes what he offers, her body feeling as limp and useless as a wrung out rag as he continues to allow her to rest her weight against him. Well, this feels familiar. Will Hak ever be able to be granted a reprieve from taking care of her?

  One of his large hands covers hers that rest in her lap after he sets her drink down, his thumb stroking along her skin soothingly. She idly wonders if he’s even aware that he’s doing it, her own awareness slowly returning to her bit by bit.

  The flap opens and in comes Kija, his eyes large and brimming with tears as he calls out to her. “Princess!” He drops to her other side, his hands hovering over her body, eager to help but unsure of what to do. “You’re awake! Are you alright?”

  She manages a small smile and a nod as he visibly deflates in relief, Yoon following shortly thereafter with a bowl of something steaming, wisps and curls stretching over the rim. “Yona!” He nudges the blubbering Kija aside and takes his place, clinical eyes sweeping over her form. He stares into her gaze with narrowed eyes and seems satisfied with the clarity that he sees there. “Do you feel well enough to be sitting up?”

  She clears the groggy croaking from her throat the best that she is able and manages to assure him that she feels much better. “I’m sorry for worrying everyone,” she says as Jae-Ha and Shin-ah duck in behind Zeno, all of them circling around her with concern in their eyes. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

  Yoon stirs the bowl of rice porridge that he’s prepared for her as Ao scampers up into her lap, the little squirrel’s tail brushing against his arm. “You had us worried there, for awhile,” he mixes a few herbs into the cup of hot water resting beside the bowl. “You just kept moaning and writhing. Were you in that much pain?”

  Pain? She blinks as she tries to recall anything that may have transpired while she’d slept, but her mind is still foggy with the lingering affects of Yoon’s medicine. That stuff was absolutely lethal. “I don’t remember,” she murmurs, accepting the cup of tea with weak hands.

  Hak’s fingers wrap around her wrist to steady her, his grip firm and warm as a hazy thought insists that he’s done the action before.

  She's sure that he has, trying to shrug it off as the warmth of his skin tickles at her mind. Hak has tugged her along and lifted her countless times. He's held her in his arms and protected her in far too many ways to count. So why is just this action bothering her? It tugs and pulls at her mind, persistently prods and pokes at her as she stares down into her medicine and frowns in thought. Why would Hak have held her wrist down...?

  Revelation is swift and she tenses and squeaks, the memories of her fevered dream beginning to piece themselves together to reveal a rather risqué picture that will surely haunt her for some time to come, if not for the rest of her life. She feels a flush creeping along her neck and up to her face as she ducks her head, unable to meet any of their curious gazes as they ask her if she’s feeling alright?

  Oh, no. This is...this is so very, very bad. How could her brain do this to her? What a terrible torture to have to endure from now on! She vaguely hears Yoon barking at them to give her some space, his tone insistent as he demands that they all go outside and eat the stew that he's prepared before it gets cold.

  “That means you, too,” Yoon says to Hak, his smaller hand dragging a pack behind Yona to help support her back and allow her to sit up without the help of the thunder beast. “Go eat with everybody else. I’ll call if we need you.”

  Hak shoots his gaze to Yona, who’s head is still ducked as she grips her tea tightly between her fingers. He’s hesitant but decides to follow the young healer’s instructions. “Yeah, alright,” he pauses as he goes to leave. “Be back later.”

  Yona heaves a sigh of relief as the tent flap falls closed behind him, her hand coming up to cover her eyes in mortification. Oh dear Gods...she would never be able to look at any of them the same way ever again...

  Yoon lifts the spoonful of porridge up to his lips and blows upon it. “Bunch of babies,” he grumbles under his breath. “Worried over a stupid little fever...” He pinks slightly as he watches Ao push a peanut against Yona’s fingers. “Not like you were that bad, or anything...”

  A sudden thought strikes her like a bolt of iced lightening, dread curling in the pit of her stomach just as the young boy’s hand is approaching the spoon toward her mouth. “Yoon!” She shouts, her head whipping to face him, startling him and nearly causing him to drop the silverware.

  “Gods- don’t _do_ that!” He yells, nearly spilling the food onto himself. “ _What_?” He barks once he’s regained his composure, placing the spoon back into the porridge with a huff.

  “D-Did I-?” She struggles to find the right words. “Um- did I say anything-?”

  He frowns at her. “What- you mean, while you slept?” At her frantic nodding he shakes his head. If he finds her behavior odd, he doesn’t comment on it. “No. You just moaned a lot...” He doesn’t see her shoulders sag in relief as he prepares another spoonful of rice. “You did call out for Hak a few times, though,” he says with a shoulder shrug as he blows upon the hot porridge, a smaller amount this time, just to be safe.

  He instructs her to say, ‘Ah,’ but finds her mouth already gaping open. He thinks nothing of it as he feeds her, readying the next bite and instructing her to drink her medicinal tea.

  Man, what a pain.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and if you have a minute, feel free to leave feedback! I always enjoy it! 
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr! I like to interact with people!


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